The Way I Am
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: "She falls against him, willing, pliable, her spine a convex curve against his arm, so tightly wound around her waist and then he presses his hips into hers, his mouth to her lips." Follows 4x23, 'Always.' NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 5
1. Falling

**"The Way I Am"**

_**AN: **Immediately follows 4x23, 'Always.' Inspired by the lyrics to 'The Way I Am' by Ingrid Michaelson. _

* * *

**'If you were falling, then I would catch you'**

They barely make it four steps into his loft before he tugs on their joined hands, reels her back into his arms. She falls against him, willing, pliable, her spine a convex curve against his arm, so tightly wound around her waist and then he presses his hips into hers, his mouth to her lips.

He is the sunlight to her rainy day and she opens herself to him, unfurls like a flower bud as he delves inside, deep, intense, his longing for her tangible with every caress of his tongue, every groan deep in his throat, every whisper of his fingertips against her ribs, her cheekbones, the tender spot under her ear.

"Kate." Her name on his lips both plea and revelation and then the ground disappears from under her feet as he lifts her against him, cradles her to his chest, his arms strong against her back, holding her tightly, protectively, possessively. Her ribs scream in protest but she breathes through it, shifts her forehead into the welcoming arc of his neck. Lets him hold her, feel her close, breathe her in, his nose in her hair, his breath short hot bursts against her scalp.

"Shhh." She paints comforting sounds onto his skin, words, reassurances to soothe his loving, bruised heart. "I'm here, it's okay. You've got me."

He exhales hard, staccato bursts of breath that pound against his ribcage and she trembles with it, traces her fingertips over the broad curve of his shoulder, into the soft hair at his nape.

"I'm here now. I'm yours." She scrapes her nails over the top of his spine and he shivers against her, fits her more firmly against his chest.

"I'm yours," she repeats, soothing but determined as she places her open mouth to his collarbone; goose bumps travel along his skin in syncopation with her words, her warm breath dancing across his skin. She follows the trail with her lips, skirting soft kisses to his skin, up along his neck, his jawline until he moans and she shifts, faces him. His eyes like midnight blue diamonds, scintillating with urgency, overwhelming desire, unfathomable ache.

It has never felt more inevitable than right now, this thing between them, dark and throbbing and undeniable. She answers his plea, her arms laced around his neck, holding his eyes with hers as she offers him the reassurance he is seeking, offers all of herself, all the discombobulated parts that make up her existence, her vulnerable and imperfect, her aching, fervent, desperate self.

"Let me love you."

* * *

She undresses him slowly, painstakingly slips free the buttons of his dress shirt, one by one, following the exposed trail of skin with her eyes, her fingertips, the fiery touch of her lips. She sips from his salty skin, explores his shape with tongue and teeth, his breathing a loud, heaving thrust against his ribs, until she has worked the shirt over his shoulders, down his arms. He watches her with darkened eyes, shivers under her touch.

His chest is broad, muscular, safe, and she skims her hands underneath his pectoral muscles, along the grooves of his ribs and around to his sides. Cradles herself tightly against his torso, with her face nudged into his neck, giving herself a moment to drink him in, soak up the reality that she is here, like this, with him. That she is alive.

He spans his hands around her waist, broad bold touches that envelop her and she feels the shift between them, like a burst of electricity released with the next thunderclap that booms in their ears as he lifts her up, turns them around and deposits her on his wide, sinfully cushy bed.

He crawls over her body and she stretches out underneath him, her arms flung wide over her head, arches her back so that the lace of her bra teases against his naked skin. There's a dull harsh throb in her shoulders where they were wrenched in their sockets while she hung off the building but she ignores it, everything else muted by the heat within her, viscous strands of lava that coat her muscles, set her skin on fire.

He hovers above her and her eyes find his, drawn with frantic want, mouth open in silent invocation. She arches again, grazes her breasts against him in unspoken invitation, tunnels her fingers through his hair and tugs him closer by the back of his head.

"Castle," she begs on a sigh, a loving plea that flows easily from her lips as she offers all of herself to him, her body, the entirety of her _self_. He's already had her for so long.

He sinks down onto her gently, his weight heavy and pleasant and her thighs splay open wide, welcoming him into the cradle of her body. His slow movements belie the intensity of his mouth plundering hers, his tongue deep, seeking, drawing from her like a man in a desert starved for water, desperately taking all she has to give and she grants it eagerly, frantically seeking more with every foray. She has no defenses left, only rubble at her feet where a wall used to be, a barrier they both brought down, together.

Kate raises one leg up high, curls it around his hip and thigh, finds leverage with her other foot against the mattress and then she flips him onto his back, settles herself on his hips where she can feel him, thick and rising against her through two layers of fabric. Her breath catches at the instant friction and the look of stunned surprise on his face gives way to delighted intensity. He lifts his hips against her in a slow, teasing grind, and she presses down against him, meets the welcome pressure while she watches his eyes flutter, a groan rumbling through his chest.

She stills for a moment, wonders whether she's ever felt anything like this before. She's never been shy during sex but now she feels an urgency to bare herself that is new, a churning need low in her abdomen. To give herself over to this man, who has seen her at her best and at her worst, and who has loved her through it. Loves her because of it, in spite of it.

Shrugging off her blouse first, she brings her hands to her back and, holding his eyes captive with hers, she unhooks her bra, lets the garment slide off her shoulders and chest before she throws it off the bed. She feels almost regal, displayed proudly; seductress and surrender both as she arches her back, her hips a slow slide against him as she offers herself.

"Touch me."

His eyes follow the path of his hands as he skates over her hipbones, her sides, her ribs, until her breasts fall into his palms, and he cradles her, his eyelids falling shut for a moment on a suppressed shudder. She wonders how long he has imagined this moment, how often he's dreamed about seeing her, touching her like this.

"Yes," she hisses the words through her teeth, clenches her thighs around his hips in a silent plea and he opens his eyes, watches her closely while he kneads the curves of her flesh, skates his thumbs over the peaks. They crest instantly, hard pebbles against his fingers as he circles, tweaks, teases. Her abdomen roars with blistering need and she helplessly rocks against his hands, his hips, fluid and bare for him.

"Kate," he moans, begs, his voice darkened with passion as he squeezes her nipples between his fingertips. She groans frantically at the sensation, a searing bolt straight to her middle, and she falls forward on to his chest, recklessly seeking his mouth. She slants her lips across his, delves into the heated cavern of his mouth, meeting his tongue in deep, longing strokes while he holds her against him, hips and stomachs and chests aligned, luscious friction, small jolts of current to her skin.

His hips are jumpy underneath her, she can feel his body thrumming with need, his muscles clenched, kept under the tight rein of his control and she knows, understands, how he protects her even now, careful with her still but she doesn't need it now; she won't break and she wants him unleashed, wants him to take her, all that she is.

Dancing her mouth down his neck, dipping her tongue into the hollow of his clavicle, she moves lower, places open-mouthed kisses all over his chest while her fingertips precede her, trailing over his waist, his stomach, dipping underneath the waistband of his pants. He hisses at the swift contact with his skin and she moves faster, filled with urgency as she unzips his pants, pops open the button. She takes a moment to skirt her hand across him, feeling him strain against the fabric, heated and full, before she pulls off the pants, bringing his boxers with, throwing the clothes off the bed.

She's yearning for him, a gaping, aching emptiness opening up within her at the sight of him, so strong that she can barely breathe. She shimmies out of her own jeans, an ungraceful effort as she struggles with the still wet, clinging material, but he raises up on his elbows, watches her with unabashed desire. Her jeans and underwear mingle with his on the floor when she crawls back up his body, slides the wet heat of herself against the length of him.

Castle groans, falls back against the bed with a heady shudder but his eyes are open, taking her in, all of her as she straddles him, gloriously naked. She had feared awkward moments but all she feels now is free, an exhilarating openness to every contact, every touch that makes her ache to spread her legs wide, offer herself to his mouth, exposed and wanton, letting him see and taste while he devours her and the image rushes another burst of wetness through her, pool between her thighs.

As if he knows her thoughts, he places a hand on her hip, tilts her pelvis and dips a finger between her legs.

"God, Kate," he groans, total abandon as his touch finds her so wet; he slides along the slippery length of her, circles the bundle of nerves, swollen and raised and his touch sends fire racing through her veins. She arches into his hand, lets him explore for a moment, understanding the need to touch, to feel all that she couldn't say with words for so long. Then she places her hand on his, pulls it away, shaking her head.

"Not this time," she murmurs with a smile. Her fingers seek, find him, skimming touches as she familiarizes herself with his shape, the feel of him, full and heavy against her palm; watches his face twist with need, his stomach muscles jump and contract.

"I just want you," she sighs, an echo of her promise of earlier tonight, when she had come to his doorstep, when she had finally found her way to him. And then she aligns herself with him, and slowly takes him inside.

She shudders as she receives him, as he fills her, warm and hard until he is deep, so deep and her hips are sliding against his.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," her name a ragged plea on his lips and she blinks open her eyes, finds his wide open, piercing as he watches her, his fingers gripped firmly around her hip bones. His body is taut underneath her, vibrating with urgency but he holds her still; infinite moments pass as she feels her body stretching, fluttering around him, becomes aware of how they fit together, seamless, inevitable.

And then his body twitches with irrepressible need and she moves, gradually at first, rises up high, slides back down, creating friction, such sizzling friction between them; fiery sparks and pressure and the slick perfect glide of their bodies together.

He surges up, desire and abandon propelling his hips against hers, a sharp press that meets just that right spot, spurs her on and then it's fast, urgent as she undulates her hips in rhythm with his, twists and circles, her movements more sloppy as she rises and falls, loses her balance.

Her head falls back and she shivers, needing, craving more pressure while he fills her insides with coiling sensation. Only half aware of what she's doing she slides two fingers between her thighs, presses firmly, and "oh god," she sobs, begs. "Harder."

Castle growls underneath her, a harsh churning sound as he sits up swiftly, shifts her onto his lap. With his large hand splayed wide on her tailbone, he pushes her hips forward, against his pelvis, and she adjusts her legs, laces them around his hips until she is draped over him, cradled within his tight embrace. She can feel his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing choppy.

The angle is off at first and she shifts, shimmies her lower body. He quivers within her, rocks her onto him once more and then she feels like she's going up in flames, keens out a sound that barely sounds like her, aching, filled to the brim with him. He dips his head, wraps his mouth around her breast, sucking her nipple against the roof of his mouth in rhythm with his hips, stroking deep, so deep and there is pressure inside and out, sensation everywhere, waves lapping at her veins, her head swimming.

"Cas…" She mewls, clenches her fingers around his neck, rocking and surging into him and then she is falling, her back arched, bright sparks behind her eyelids, head thrown back, she's falling, falling all over again but his arms are strong around her back and hips, holding her close, safe, tight. Holding her.

Castle.

And she bursts apart, clenches around him, her whole body on fire as he spasms within her, falling with her, catching her.


	2. Light

**'You need a light, I'd find a match'**

"You saved me, Castle," she admits later, as she lays on top of him, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed together, her breasts flattened against his chest.

"What happened?" He cradles her, his arms around her back and hips. There's a fearful timbre in his voice that lances right into her heart.

"I almost fell twenty stories from a building." She says it matter-of-factly, the words a whisper against his clavicles while she draws circles over his chest with her fingertips. She made it, she's here now, and part of her feels removed from it as if it's all been just a surreal nightmare.

His arms around her tighten, clench against her ribs and she winces, hides her face in his neck at the stark reminder that this wasn't a dream after all. She breathes through the pain, stays quiet. Castle will know soon enough; Maddox got a good kick in and she'll surely be sporting a spectacular bruise on her ribcage by tomorrow.

But not now; she wants this night with him as perfect and unblemished as possible.

She lifts her head, rises up so she can see him and his eyes are sharp with worry. Kate trails her fingertips down his cheek in a comforting caress.

"I fought him; he pushed me off the edge of the building, left me hanging there to die."

"Kate," he grunts miserably, "I'm sorry, I wasn't…" But she quickly presses her fingers to his lips, locks in the words as she shakes her head. She can see it in his eyes and the drawn lines around his mouth, the guilt he feels for not being there with her, how he berates himself for leaving her, for letting her go.

"No, Castle," she whispers, "you were." He still shakes his head but she holds on to his cheeks, stills him and places a tender kiss on his lips, lingers with her tongue, her mouth, comfort and salvation both.

"You were with me," she admits, imploring and serious. Cradling his hand within hers, she presses the flat of his palm over her heart. "In here."

She's not usually one for heavy conversation after sex, feels shyer now than when he was inside of her but she wants to give this to him, this reassurance of her choices, this hard-fought admission of her soul.

"I heard you calling me, telling me to hold on, and I did. For you. You saved me, Castle. In so many ways."

He stares up at her, stunned by her words, and her heart hammers against his hand where it's still pressed against her chest. A harsh flash of lightning illuminates his features, white and blue zigzagging across his bedroom; loud thunder roars and crashes immediately after.

Everything goes dark.

* * *

She freezes for a moment, stops breathing as her whole body contracts with fear, the day's events suddenly so vivid on her mind that it feels like a threat, the sudden darkness pulsating around her ominously.

"Huh. Stands to reason that lightning would strike the moment you declare your undying love for me," he quips, and she can practically hear the grin on his face. His fingers are trailing down her stomach, along her waist, touches meant to calm and tease and she squirms against him, breathes through her jumping heartbeat.

"I declared no such thing," she haughtily declares, then falls forward to find his mouth in the dark and kisses him swiftly, belying her words, sipping at the smile on his lips. He plays with her, tongue and lips a languid dance across her mouth and she lets his playfulness draw away the dark haunting thoughts.

"Come on," he murmurs against her lips, lifting up and she shifts off him in the process. "Let's get some light in here." He bounds off the bed, snags her hand and pulls her up with him. "I finally got you naked and I can't see it. That is just unacceptable."

She knows he noticed, is diffusing her worries like only he can, with humor that is so much him that her throat clogs with aching warmth.

"But you've already seen all of me, Castle," she teases, rubs her breasts along his back for a moment before she steps past him. He groans, reels her back around by her hand and she tumbles into his chest.

"I'll never get enough of you," he growls, his voice low and honest, and then his mouth is on her, his tongue diving deep and strong, full of longing and reassurance and she takes it, takes all of it.

While he hunts through his loft for candles, Kate stumbles around in the dark bathroom, the flashlight app on her phone bathing the space in more shadows than light. She cleans up the stickiness between her legs, and her skin flushes, her body welling with a fresh wave of longing at the memories of what they did together.

Taking a moment, she stares into the darkness, imagines what she might look like. Runs her fingers through the tangled mess of her hair, over her lips, kiss-swollen and warm. Skims along her flushed cheeks, down her neck, her collarbones, the slope of skin that is tender from the rasp of his scruffy chin. She lingers on her scar, circles a fingertip around its puckered edges, the ghost of his kisses still branded to the mark.

* * *

When she joins him again in the bedroom, he is distributing candles to every available surface, a flashlight in his hand as he moves through the space. He turns around when he hears her steps, falters at the sight.

"Beckett, did you just walk through my kitchen, stark naked?" He sounds both proprietary and regretful at having missed it and she smirks at him, saunters closer.

"I went to find matches." She opens her hand to reveal the small cardboard box.

He tugs her closer by the wrist, her body flush with his as he nuzzles his mouth into her neck. "You know," he murmurs, "I have one of those automatic lighters thingies somewhere."

His voice whispers along her skin and she shivers, letting her head fall back to grant him better access. He nudges his nose against the soft skin by her jaw. "Where you just push…" Grazes his teeth along the rim of her ear. "The button." Then he pulls her earlobe into his mouth, suckles on the tender flesh and her knees buckle, fiery want immediately curling through her blood.

Kate pushes away, creates a few inches of space between their bodies while trying to gain some steadiness to her liquid bones and pounding heart.

"But that wouldn't be nearly as romantic." She enunciates 'romantic' in the way that she knows he likes, rolls the r and sharpens the k sound while she takes out a match, strikes it against the box and holds the dancing flame up between them, before she turns and connects the match head with the wick of one of the candles. It flares to life with a hiss, emitting a dim glow before it flickers, grows brighter, and she circles back toward him, purses her lips and blows out the match. His eyes flash, almost black with desire, and he gulps.

"You wanna be romanced?" He asks, sounding unsteady and a powerful rush sweeps through her, knowing how he desires her, how he loves her, sweeping and all-consuming.

She strikes on another match and illuminates the next set of candles until the flame almost reaches her fingers. She blows it out.

"Doesn't every woman want that?" Turning her head to look at him for a moment, an eyebrow quirked up teasingly, she finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, unabashedly admiring her while she sashays naked through his bedroom, moving from candle to candle until room is awash with the dancing, warm-yellow light of the flames.

"You, Kate Beckett, aren't just any other woman." His words are low, laced with astonished wonder, and a warm blush spreads all over her skin. Any bit of distance to him is suddenly too far and she hurries back to him, steps between the vee of his knees.

Castle wraps his arms around her hips, cradling her closer as he nuzzles his face into her stomach.

"You are the most remarkable," he whispers the words into her skin. _Maddening, challenging, frustrating,_ her brain fills in the blanks, starkly reminds her of the pain, his tears of earlier today. Her throat clogs with the memory and she shivers, runs her fingers through his hair, tries to tug him close, ever closer, feels like she can't get him close enough.

"Breathtaking," he says instead, mingling his words with kisses around the curve of her abdomen. "Mesmerizing, surprising…" He dips his tongue into her navel and her knees buckle. "_Delicious_ woman I've ever met." She presses into him, already can't get enough, heat slicing into her, harsh and fast but he calms her, rests his chin against her, looking up at her, his face earnest, tender.

"You are extraordinary, Kate, and I love you."

She sobs. Can't help the sound struggling forth from her throat, the relief tangible in her heart, loud in her ears as he presses his face into her abdomen, nuzzles the soft swell of skin underneath her navel. He's here, still with her, his mouth against her skin and his hands wrapped around her hips; he loves her, he still loves her and she tries to breathe, tries to capture that feeling but instead she tumbles against him, his touch, his lips heating her blood with the brushfire of arousal.

"Shhhh," he hums soothing sounds against her, the tingles of his voice prickling along her front while his thumbs caress lazy circles around the peaks and valleys of her hipbones, skim along the thin, sensitive skin.

"You might get your romancing just yet," he murmurs, his words pleased but roughened with want and she grabs her fingers into his hair, her head dropping back on a sigh as his mouth travels lower. His lips, his tongue, his ragged breaths are tracking a heated path down her abdomen, along the edges of her thighs, closer, ever closer to where her arousal is pooling, wet and heated, where she is aching for him.

His breath pops against her, a burst of moist heat that steals the air out of her lungs and she widens her stance, tilts her hips forward, seeking more, pressing into his mouth, almost subconscious in her need. He dips his tongue against her, tasting her for the first time and she digs her nails into his scalp, tugging him closer, tighter into her, can barely stay upright under the perfect rasp, the hot wet pressure as he circles, licks, nips along the tight nerves.

She whimpers, her legs quaking but she never wants this to stop, the perfect angle of his tongue shattering her stroke by stroke. Castle tugs up one of her legs, rests it next to him on the bed, holding her upright by her hips while he opens her wider, dips deeper, groans against her, his tongue seeking in long, explorative strokes. She had hoped his mouth would be as talented as he was talkative but this, god there's nothing like this, open and trusting and incomparably intimate and for a split second she can't believe that she missed out on this, with him, for all these years.

Her muscles start to clench, quiver under his frenzied caresses, his devoted attention. His entire focus lies solely on her as he draws each response from her with intense, measured precision, playing her like a well-loved, perfected instrument and she knows with certainty that they are better now, with each other, for each other; better for who they have become.

He laves his tongue over her once more, holds her on the brink with meticulous pressure and tingles race along her spine as her body stiffens, heat flushes underneath her skin.

"Rick," she moans his given name, poised on the proverbial edge. Tugs on his ear, the strands of his hair; her other hand curved around his neck, a quiet urging that belies the intensity coiling inside of her, heated and relentless, and then he vigorously flicks his tongue against her, fast, over and over until she splinters apart around him, bright light flaring behind her eyelids as her muscles clench, her entire body trembling in his embrace.

He holds her through it, his cheek resting against her abdomen as she sags in his arms, gulps for oxygen. When she can gather her thoughts again, she trails her fingertips along his cheek, over his chin to tip his head up to her, leaning down to meet his mouth. She kisses him, laves her tongue along his lips, tasting herself on him, and her heart leaps at their mingled flavors.

On wobbly legs Kate crawls on to the bed, pulling him with her and he lands on top of her, his body so very warm, pleasantly heavy and taut and she tugs his mouth to her, delves inside, deep strokes of her tongue against his, languid, sweet, open.

She wraps her legs around his hips, the heat of her cradling his pelvis and he laces their fingers together, resting both their hands next to her head. His eyes are darkened, intense and he gradually slides inside of her, watching her closely on every move. Her eyelids flutter at the feel of him within her body, thick and pulsing, and she gives herself to him, arches into him, giving him control over her body as he slowly coaxes her back to the verge of another orgasm.

The climb is slow at first, staggeringly intense, her insides quivering with each long stroke and she tightens her legs around him, cradling him to her as his movements gain speed, grow more shaky; urgency and need overtaking the tight control he holds over his body and she welcomes it, wants more of it, undulates her hips to urge him on, his unrestrained desire for her sending her spiraling and this time, he takes her with him as they fall, her inner muscles clenching around him as he shudders inside of her, groaning her name through his release.

He collapses on top of her and her ribs protest, a whoosh of air bursting from her lungs, harshly reminding her of the beating she has taken today and seemingly on instinct he rolls onto his back, takes her with him, draping her over his chest. She feels warm, pleasantly weakened as she sinks into his embrace. His chest rises and falls underneath her and she listens to his rapid breathing, her palm resting over his heart where his heartbeat pounds a brisk rhythm into her skin.

A long while later she detangles from his embrace and gets up, blows out the candles one by one before she climbs back into bed, watching him fondly in the darkness of the room. He's lying sprawled out on the mattress the same way he was when she got up, fast asleep, inviting in his exhaustion and she crawls closer to him, rests her head on his chest once more, slings an arm possessively around his torso. His arm comes around her shoulder automatically, his embrace heavy with sleep as he instinctually tugs her into him.

She inhales his scent, woodsy and musk and sex, and closes her eyes.

* * *

_TBC_


	3. Good Morning

**AN: **Happy Birthday Kelly! Wishing you a wonderful day and a fabulous year full of fangirling and Caskett sexytimes and smoldering looks and FEELS and squeeing and flailing and… ALL the good things! :)

* * *

'**Cause I love the way you say good morning'**

Kate drifts into consciousness slowly, languidly, as if she is floating through white cushy clouds, soft against her skin, caressing up and down her back. Her dreams dissipate into nothingness as awareness crawls up her spine and it's his fingers tripping along her skin, dancing over her shoulder blades and the curves of her ribcage.

She shifts toward him, blinks open her eyes, can't stop the slow smile from spreading over her face, drifting on a languorous wave of happiness and a touch of quiet disbelief because she's really here with him. He is here. They both are.

_Castle._

He is lying on his side, his head propped up on one elbow, watching her with a solemn smile while he skims a hand along her shoulder, cups her cheek. His eyes are brimming with love, reflect such astonished awe at finding her with him that her heart flutters in her chest. She kisses the heel of his hand, barely grazes her teeth against his skin.

His eyes flash and she rises, seals her lips to his mouth. Their morning kiss is long and leisurely and deep, his tongue tangling with hers, give and take and she's astounded all over again just how good it feels, with him, aching and perfect and right.

When they pull apart he smiles at her, wide and oh, so very happy with her that she is flooded with warmth, has to suppress the swell of tears behind her eyelids.

"G'Morning," she murmurs, runs her teeth along her bottom lip where the tingle of his flavor is still present.

"Good morning, Kate." He trails his fingertips down her cheeks, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Coffee?"

'_Every morning I bring you a cup of coffee just so that I can see a smile on your face,_' she remembers vividly but instead of the destructive ache she had felt at the time, now it's only warmth spreading through her at the manifestation of his unerring commitment to her, those hundreds and hundreds of cups of coffee and so she smiles, can hardly contain it as she nods. "Yeah. Coffee."

He grins, at once playful as he grabs her under the arms, deposits her back onto the mattress; she squeals in surprise and he swallows her giggles with his mouth, delving inside of her, kisses her fast and intense until she gasps for breath and he pulls away.

"Okay. Coffee," he gasps on a ragged breath and then he leaps out of bed, throws her a saucy grin before he slips on his boxers and taps toward his kitchen.

She unabashedly watches his ass, taut and round underneath the fabric as he walks, and when he is out of her view she languidly stretches her body against the smooth sheets of his bed. _Castle's bed._ She grins. The giddy feeling just won't subside, the reality that they finally, finally did this and oh god, just how amazing it was. _Is._ She feels both bashful and excited, her insides fluttery, her cheeks flushed, and then she can't be contained, leaps out of the bed.

Her feet hit the ground and she is unceremoniously reminded of all her body had to endure yesterday when her bones get jolted violently. She stands still for a moment, breathes through it as she takes stock. Her ribs are definitely bruised and tender, her shoulders ache in their sockets, her legs, her back are sore too.

But she is sick of it, so sick of not being enough, of all these issues; she wants to hold on to this happiness, grab this elated joy and keep living it and so she ignores it, ignores it all as she bends down, picks his maroon shirt up off the floor and slides her arms inside.

It smells so much like him that it makes her knees shaky, and she nudges her nose into the collar for a moment, inhales the comforting, familiar scent, lets the sense of calm run through her like a soothing balm.

Buttoning a few of the buttons while she's walking, she makes her way toward his kitchen.

* * *

The refrigerator door is open when she comes into the room, and Castle's torso has disappeared into it, only his butt and legs visible to her as he rummages around in it. She stares for a few seconds, lets her eyes trail over the curve of his ass and down his legs, his calves bulging with tight muscles.

"Hey," she calls out to him and he straightens, peeks at her around the door of the fridge. His eyes widen when he takes her in, unabashedly admires the view, his eyes roaming up from her legs, over his shirt and to her chest before he captures her eyes with his gaze, smirks at her and it's enticing and devastatingly sexy.

"Would you like some pancakes?" His voice sounds raspy and she grins, loves the effect she has on him.

She saunters closer, leans her hip against the counter by the fridge. "I'm more of a waffles kind of girl." She grins, lifts up an eyebrow.

He pushes the door closed with his hip, grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him. "You can have waffles," he rumbles, nips at the smile on her lips. She can practically hear the underlying thoughts that spill forth from his mind, _you can have anything you want_, so loud in his kiss as if he'd actually voiced them, and it fills her with viscous warmth.

Kate chases his lips with her mouth, deepens the kiss for a moment, drawing him against her, this sweet sweet man, nudges her nose against his before she pulls away. Shifting in his arms, she gazes on the counter, surveying what he's taken out of the refrigerator.

"Mmm… strawberries…" She digs into the container, pulls out one large fruit with her fingertips. "And whipped cream…" She shifts her gaze back to him, lifts up one eyebrow teasingly. "Were you expecting company?"

But he doesn't grin in return, only smiles very softly. "Yes. You."

Her eyes widen, everything grinds to a standstill and then she remembers. Movie night. Before everything went to hell. _I'd love to_, she had promised. And meant it. Finally she had felt light enough to do this, ready and wanting. Aching for him. Well. She had done one hell of a detour, yet here she was, anyway. Right here where she wants to be.

She smiles, tightens her arm around his waist. Turning her torso once more toward the counter, she dips the strawberry into the whipped cream until a thick dollop rests on its tip.

"And you stocked up for breakfast…" She turns back toward him, holds up the fruit between them, smirking.

"Were you trying to seduce me, Castle?"

His eyes darken, his grip on her tight, a knee wedged between her thighs. "Yes."

Her mouth drops open at the dark truth of his words, the churn of desire hot, low in her abdomen because she _knows_, she knew it at the time. This is where they were heading all along. And she came, willingly.

He wraps his hand around hers, nudges the strawberry against her mouth and she opens her lips, holds his gaze as she bites down on the luscious fruit, the flavor bursting on her tongue, tart and sweet, mingling with the smooth rich cream and then his mouth seals over hers, his tongue delving deep inside, stealing the strawberry and cream flavors off her tongue but replacing it with his own.

She digs her nails against his spine, the rest of the strawberry forgotten and falling to the floor when she wraps her other hand around his neck, rocking her body hard against his thigh and it's fast, urgent and needy when he lifts her by her hips, sits her up on the kitchen counter.

The glass tiles are chilly against her bare skin, goose bumps race over her skin and she gasps into his mouth. He steps between her thighs, rips open her, _his,_ shirt on her and then his hands are curved around her breasts, his fingers rolling, tweaking her nipples firmly. Sensations shoot straight into her lower body, soaking her with wet warm want. His mouth plunders hers, his tongue deep, exploring and she arches her chest against his hands, seeking more, more, _please more_.

She claws her nails into his spine, spurring him on and it's the same intensity roaring back with a vengeance, that desperate, churning want she had felt last night when she had tackled his mouth and he had pushed her against his front door, roamed his hands and mouth over her with frantic urgency.

Castle's mouth is sliding lower, trailing kisses and the rasp of his teeth over her jaw, down her neck and she's flooded with want, hot and clawing and oh, she needs him to take her, _now_.

"Cas…" She gasps, barely coherent, her words sloppy, "your fa…" She groans, can barely think coherently when his mouth wraps around her breast, vigorously sucking her into the heated cavern of his mouth. "Family."

"Not home," he growls against her skin. "Hours."

And she lets go, all control lost as she drops her head back, her pelvis rocking against his middle while he lavishes attention on her breasts; his hands and his mouth so clever, seeking her responses with single-minded focus. She's tugging on the hair at the back of his neck, keeping him there or urging him lower, she doesn't even know.

He dances his mouth toward her stomach, his hands cradled around her ribcage when he gasps, stops. "Kate!" His touch is soft, trailing along the ribs on her left. "What happened?" He sounds so shocked that she blinks open her eyes, struggles to grasp for coherent thoughts as she looks down toward him.

The line of bruises that runs along the bottom of her ribcage is vibrant, mottled in blue and purple and black. She twirls her fingers through his hair. Not now, please, not now. "Tell you later," she promises, pushes her palm on his head, nudging him lower, needy and desperate for his flaming touch.

He's still not moving, his fingers achingly soft, too tender against her. "You okay?"

"Yes," she groans impatiently, arches her middle into him, needing him so much, only him, always him. "Castle, please."

"Don't let me hurt you!" He grounds the words through his teeth, insistent and unrelenting and she nods, _yes yes_, shoves on his head, needs him to touch her, fast and hard and now, now.

"Touch me."

He growls, wraps his hands around her ankles and lifts them up on the counter, one on each side of him, splaying her thighs wide in the process and she drops her arms behind her, catches her balance on the heels of her hands. Oh god she can't believe she's naked on top of his kitchen counter, feels daring and dirty and her skin flushes with warmth but she doesn't care, needs nothing more than the burning fire of his touch.

She drops her head to see his face; can't stop watching him as he takes her in, all of her displayed for him in broad daylight, open and exposed. Heat swirls through her abdomen, heavy with expectation, shaky with need. And then he slowly drags a finger along the wet length of her.

His caress is bold and intimate, sure in its path as he explores her, a concentrated trail of molten sparks. And she wants more, wants him hard and intense, the culmination of four years of anticipation and veiled desire. Her head falls back on a groan, her hips rising, urging into him and he grips a hand around one of her thighs, holds her in place as he pushes two fingers deep inside her body.

She cries out in pleasure, filled to the brim with the intimacy of his intrusion.

"You feel _so_ good, Kate," he groans, stills, his lips whispering against her thighs, the trail of his breath bursting over the heated moisture of her body, so close to where she needs him most, making her whimper, quivery and then he seals his mouth over her, intense suction and the teasing dance of his tongue over her nerves. Pressure inside and out, strong, so very strong where he touches her, presses, nips, flicks, insistent, lightning bolts of pleasure everywhere and she sobs out sounds, his name, over and over as the white hot fire races through her, blinding and consuming, her muscles quaking on the flames licking against her spine.

She tugs on his head, urging him up, up, her core weeping; blindly tucks on the waistband of his boxers while she finds his mouth with hers, tangles her tongue with his, tasting herself and him and now, now, _now_.

Kate wraps her fingers around his length, guides him to her, almost sobbing from the sensation when he surges inside, meets her deeply, urgently, unrelenting in his strokes. He sets a fast pounding pace and she's loud, so loud, the delirious sounds of them mingling, echoing, filling the blank spaces of the kitchen. She clamps her legs around his hips, clings tightly to him, wants nothing more than to be close, connected, intertwined with him as her world splinters and breaks apart around her, the sounds of his dark moans swallowing hers when he shatters right after her.

Her mind is wiped blank, no thoughts, no worries, nothing left but the incredible feel, the sounds, the scent of him. Rick. _Castle._

He drags her with him, his arms shaky around her as he slumps down on the floor, his back against the kitchen cabinet and she ends up draped over him like a rag doll, her arms and legs wobbly, no strength left to move.

"Wow that was…" He mumbles, his chest hitching against her, gulping for oxygen.

She's gasping for air, still can't catch her breath. "Yeah."

* * *

_TBC_


End file.
